


Darkness Waits

by Ellynne



Series: The First Dark One and the Last [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Battle, Gen, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5201885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellynne/pseuds/Ellynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Near the village of Middlemist, something waited a long time to make a bargain. . . .</p><p>A somewhat AU take on the destruction of Nimue's village.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkness Waits

The wedding procession, that was where the memory always started.  No matter how many times Nimue told herself to stop thinking about it, she would find herself remembering how beautiful it had been as Blodeuwedd and she watched from the hill.  Nimue remembered how simple her worries had been that night.  She worried that Blodeuwedd’s curls would get loose from their braid or that the wreath of flowers she wore would fall off her head and get lost.  She worried that Blodeuwedd, only twelve years old, would fall asleep before the moon rose over the trees.  But, Blodeuwedd’s braid stayed put and neither of them lost their wreaths.  As for sleep, Blodeuwedd was too excited to think of closing her eyes.

Weddings in the village of Middlemist were always held at night when the moon rose.  The groom (in this case, Nimue’s widower father) started at his house, taking a long route round the village, gathering his friends and kin, ending at the bride’s doorstep (Blodeuwedd’s widowed mother).  Then, the happy couple took another long, winding way back, gathering the bride’s family and friends.  In such a small village, that meant just about everyone marching along, carrying candles and torches to light their way.

Everyone but Nimue and Blodeuwedd.  It was their job to greet the wedding couple at the cottage gates, a garland of flowers held high on poles between them.  Their parents would have spoken their vows beneath it then gone into the house, where every light had been extinguished.  There, the newlyweds would kindle the fire on the on the hearth for the first time as husband and wife.  Everyone would douse the lights they had brought, relighting them from that kindled flame.  It would have been followed by feasting and dancing till the moon set.

Instead, the procession’s lights had made them easy targets for Vortigan and his men.  The raiders had been waiting for them just at the point where the path winded towards the hill where Nimue and her father lived.  There was a large copse of trees on either side where the soldiers had remained hidden.  Others were positioned to come up from behind.  There was nowhere to run.

Only Nimue and Blodeuwedd, standing at the dark house, no lights anywhere near them, had gone unseen

She remembered Blodeuwedd screaming as the attack began, as people started to die, but she didn’t think the soldiers had heard.  Even now, her memories of those first few minutes were confused and fragmentary, jumbled images that never seemed to fit together.  She remembered Blodeuwedd screaming.  She remembered everyone screaming.  The two things must have happened together, but they ran like separate stories in her mind, unconnected.  Nimue had grabbed Blodeuwedd, forcing her into the woods.  Like all the others, the memory felt separate from the rest.  But, she knew it was what had happened.  How else could they have escaped to the woods?  She knew she and Blodeuwedd had run.

Was that her mistake?  They could have gone to the root cellar and hidden under piles of old vegetables.  They could have gone to the barn and hidden in the hay.  Or, what if they’d run _towards_ the village, keeping hidden in the ditches.  The soldiers would never have expected that, would they?  And, maybe, they’d have been able to help.

Or if Nimue had just chosen a different route through the woods.  The footpath had seemed too dangerous.  Other soldiers might be waiting there, watching for anyone who escaped.  Even if they weren’t, it would be easy for anyone coming after them to ride them down.  They could have just wandered through the trees, hoping to stay hidden.  But, that was a good way to wind up wandering in circles in the dark, easy prey. 

Instead, she had listened for the sound of the stream and headed towards it.  It had seemed like a good idea at the time.  Nimue thought it would hide their scent if the attackers had hounds.  It also gave them something to follow, to make sure they were moving away from the village, not towards it.

She’d tried.  As terrified as she’d been that night, she’d _tried._

They’d reached the old oak by the river bend with its hollow trunk.  The villagers would know this spot, but Nimue doubted any outsiders would.  It was a good place to shelter.  It was also near Ghost Hill.  Even in the dark, Nimue thought she could find her way to the hill from here.  She had Blodeuwedd hide in the oak and began making her way cautiously through the trees.

The Hill had an evil reputation.  It was a pile of rocks and dirt where nothing grew but briars and a few weeds.  Sheep that strayed there to graze sickened and often died.  People avoided it by day and no one _ever_ went there by night.

But, it was the highest piece of ground hereabouts.  Nimue should be able to see the village from there.  There might be firelight from some of the homes, she’d thought.  That would be a good thing, wouldn’t it?  Proof the attackers had been driven back or moved on.  If there were campfires around the village, though, that would mean they were still there. 

And, if there were lights moving along the road. . . .  Any fleeing villagers would be keeping to the dark.  Only raiders would use light.  Her father, Blodeuwedd’s mother, they would be doing what she was, staying in the shadows.  If they were out there, she wouldn’t be able to see them.

It didn’t matter.  She had to look, to learn whatever she could.

There wasn’t even an animal track leading up the hill.  Wild beasts kept away from it.  For barren ground, it seemed to have more than its fair share of roots and branches for her to trip over.  But, battered and bruised, the palms of her hands scratched and bleeding from too many falls, Nimue was almost to the top, close enough to see the circle.  

She’d never seen it before, but everyone knew about the circle.  There were thirteen old, weathered stones at the top of the hill.  Some asked what else would you expect to find at the top of a pile of stones, which was all the hill was?  What else but more stones?  Some even seemed to believe that. 

Others said the stones resembled curved, gnarled teeth and saw how they stood (more or less) in a circle, like a mouth closing on its prey, and didn’t try making excuses for the fear they felt.

Even in the darkness, Nimue could see them, black against black.  Tonight, as they rose into sight as she neared the top of the hill, they looked not so much like teeth as dancers, ghostly shadows twisting to a slow, inhuman music.  The frightened sound of her blood, beating in her ears, was like a drumbeat keeping time.

Whatever the truth of the circle, no one doubted someone—or something—had placed the stone that lay in its center.  It wasn’t any sort of rock quarried in these parts.  A black altar stone with veins of blood red, it had marks carved on it in a language no one knew. 

They said the place gave bad dreams to those who walked here, even by daylight.  There were stories—Nimue didn't know if they were true or not—about how any foolish enough to come at night suffered strange accidents or went mad.  Nimue thought she might be safe so long as she walked around the stones.  If there were anything dangerous, surely it would be  _inside_ the circle, wouldn’t it?  That was what she told herself to do—what she _meant_ to do—until she reached the crest of the hill and saw the red light in the distance.  Then, she took off at a run.

The village was burning.  Nimue thought of the candles Blodeuwedd and she had watched earlier, moving like fireflies through the night.  Now, everything she knew was being devoured in flames.  She stared at the end of everything she knew, before staggering back.  She would have fallen if the altar stone hadn’t been behind her.  Nimue put a hand behind her, steadying herself against the cold rock.  Her hands were damp with sweat and blood from scratches she’d picked up searching her way through the dark.

She heard hoof beats.

There was no place to run even if Nimue had been able to.  All she could do was drop to her knees, crouching low behind the stone as two horsemen came up the hill.

 _Don’t let them see me,_ she prayed silently to anything that might listen.  _Please, please, don’t let them see me._

“What are we doing up here?” one of the riders said.

“Vortigan said to search,” the other said.

“So?  What’s sitting on a hill got to do with searching?”

“If anyone got away with it, this is where they’d come.  That’s what he says, and he should know.”

“You think anyone escaped _that?_   We got all the stragglers.  There’s no one left.”

“Then we’ve got an easy job, haven’t we?  Don’t complain.”

“Hmph. At least the others can warm themselves by a fire, can’t they?”

“So, be glad it’s not raining.  Now, stop your whining.”

How long would they be here?  Till morning?  Even if she could stay hidden through the night, they would see her as soon as the sun came up.  And what about Blodeuwedd?  What would she do when Nimue didn’t come back?  What if she came to the hill, looking for her?”

 _Help me,_ she whispered silently, her hand still against the stone.  _If there’s anyone out there, help me!_

Nimue had a strange feeling, as if something had turned and looked at her.  She could feel hungry eyes boring into her.

 _I can help you,_ a silent voice said.  _For a price.  What do you want?  What will you give me for it?_    

Nimue froze, not daring to breathe.  Blood thundered in her ears.

_Who—who are you?_

_An old shadow.  A faded memory from long ago.  But, I can help.  What do you want?_

She was mad, Nimue thought.  After everything that had happened, she’d gone mad. 

_What do you want?_

Nimue swallowed.  Mad or not, she needed whatever help she could get.  _To go back safe to Blodeuwedd.  For none of these men—or any others—to see me._

There was a pause, as if the shadows were weighing her words. 

 _Yes. . . ._ The voice in her head was measured, considering.  Then, in clipped tones, it said, _Yes, I can do this. But, you must give me leave to enter you._

Nimue barely kept from gasping out loud.  _What?_

 _Oh, nothing harmful,_ the shadow said.  _Nothing dangerous.  I’m nothing, only a shadow, a wisp of night.  But, I can keep the men from seeing you and help you get away.  The rest is up to you.  Do we have a deal?_

Nimue thought of Blodeuwedd, hiding in the dark.  She thought of her father and Blodeuwedd’s mother and everyone else she knew, dead in their village. 

 _Yes,_ she said. _Come into me.  Help me. I’ll do whatever you want._

She heard something like a rippling laugh.  _I love it when they say that._ Then, the shadow settled against her.

Nimue didn’t know what she’d expected.  Something horrible.  Something that hurt, burning from inside.  This felt gentle and soft, almost like a blanket.

 _That’s it,_ the shadow said.  _Now, get up and walk away—walk towards that stone, over there.  Stop when you reach it._

 _Walk!?_ Nimue thought.  _Are you insane?  They’ll see me!_

Again, that feeling like laughter.  _Not inside the circle.  But, my strength is weaker outside it.  That’s why we must go carefully. Walk to the stone.  Or crawl, if you feel safer.  But, go._

Nimue crept across the circle, trying to keep low, wondering if the shadow was trying to kill her.  _If it is, I can run from here._ The space beyond that stone was clear.  She might be able to plunge downhill and into the trees before the men could catch her.  It was small comfort.

 _Yes, you might,_ the shadow said. _But you won’t have to.  Don’t be afraid._

Nimue stopped when she reached the stone, more out of terror than any faith in her invisible guide.  She forced herself to breath slowly and silently instead of taking the great, gasping breaths she longed to.

 _You’re doing quite well,_ the shadow assured her.  _Now, reach down.  Do you see the bush with the white berries growing against the stone?  Pick as many as you can.  You’ll need at least thirteen for what you must to do.  More is better.  You may be wanting as many as you can carry before the night is through._

Nimue pulled out her handkerchief, knotting the corners together to make it into a small sack as quickly as her shaking hands would let her.  Hastily, she began filling it, looking over her shoulder, but the men never even glanced at her. 

When she was finished, the shadow said, _Well done, Nimue.  Now, go to around the circle and place a berry at the foot of each stone. It will make a spell, in case you’re wondering.  A very useful one._

Shakily, Nimue placed a berry at the foot of the stone she was crouching against.  _What are they? s_ he asked.  _I thought I knew every plant that grew in these forests.  What are these?_

_Something that doesn’t grow here, obviously.  There was a man once, Epimetheus.  Have you ever heard of him?  N_ _o?  What a pity.  He was a great adventurer and went where few would dare.  He brought fire back from dark places.  His brother, Prometheus, tried to steal it from him but failed and paid the price for it.  Epimetheus placed the stone on this hill, to guard his work.  The berries were something he brought back with him. In all the world, they only grow here._

_People have been on this hill before,_ Nimue said. _No one ever spoke of them._

_They only grow at certain times and certain seasons.  They are shy of daylight.  Like me._

Slowly, Nimue went to the next stone.  And the next.  When she reached the fourth stone, one of the guards turned and looked right at her, then looked away as though she weren’t even there.

“Have you got anything to drink?” he asked his companion.

“All out.  Bet you the others are good and drunk by now.  Did you see all the wine those villagers were carrying?  You’d think the general could have given us a nip before sending us off.  I bet it’s all gone by the time we get back.”

The other snorted.  “I won’t take that bet.”

Nimue started to breathe again.  She went on to the next stone.  _It’s true,_ she told her companion.  _They can’t see me._

_You see?  I told you I could keep you safe._

When Nimue put down the last berry, she asked, _Is that it?_

_It is.  Step out of the circle.  Go down the hill.  You’re hidden from all eyes looking for you._

Taking a deep breath, Nimue stepped into the dark.  There was an odd feeling as she passed the stones, something that made her hair stand on end.  She waited a heartbeat, then two.  But, no shouts came after her.  She had the strangest feeling that something more had just happened.  But, when she looked behind her, the men hadn’t moved.  She seemd just as invisible outside the circle as in.  Deciding not to press her luck any further, she looked away, making her way downhill as quickly as she could.

The hill wasn’t so bad this time.  The roots didn’t reach out to trip her.  If anything, she could imagine them getting out of her way.  But, she’d expected things to get harder once she reached the trees.  She should have been walking almost blind.  Her plan had been to listen for the stream again and move towards it.  Once there, she thought she could get her bearings and follow the water till she found the oak again.  Instead, the forest seemed . . . not bright.  She couldn’t make out any colors.  Everything was velvet black.  But, the shadows stood out against each other in a way she didn’t have the words to describe.  Every shape was distinct and solid.

_How can I see this?_

The voice inside her was smug.  _You have a shadow inside you.  Why shouldn’t you see in the dark?_

Why shouldn’t she?  Nimue bit back the urge to laugh like a mad woman.  Right now, she had to reach Blodeuwedd.  She ignored everything except moving as quickly as she dared till she reached the oak. 

“Blodeuwedd?” she whispered.  “Blodeuwedd, it’s me.  I’m back.”

That was when she heard the soft moan and smelled the sweet-salt scent of blood.

Blodeuwedd lay inside the hollow.  With her new eyes, Nimue could see the black-on-black trails of blood where a sword had stabbed her in the guts.

She remembered the men on the hill.  What was it they’d said?  _We got all the stragglers._

“Nimue?” Blodeuwedd whispered. “Nimue, it hurts. . . .  Stop it . . . please. . . .”

Numbly, Nimue knelt beside her, pulling the torn cloth around Blodeuwedd’s wound.  She’d bandaged enough cuts in her time and sewn them closed, but she’d never dealt with anything like this.

 _Shadow,_ she whispered to the darkness inside her.  _Shadow, help me.  Tell me how to heal her._

 _. . . . I cannot,_ the shadow said.  _I’m sorry.  I warned you.  I am nothing but a voice these days.  What little power I have was in the circle, and it is not strong enough for this._

 _There must be something you can do,_ Nimue said.  _There_ must _!_

Nimue had the feeling she’d had before when she first met the shadow, that it was watching her silently, like a cat eying its prey.

. . . . _There is one thing._

_What?  Tell me!  I’ll do anything for Blodeuwedd.  Anything!_

She felt the shadow’s grim amusement, but it only said, _Then, if you would end her suffering . . . give her one of the berries._

_The berries?  Those will heal her?_

_They will end her suffering._

Nimue stared into the darkness.  _You don’t mean—you can’t—_

_I cannot heal, not anymore.  Do nothing and she will be a long time dying.  She will suffer greatly before the end.  Do this, and she will not._

Nimue stared down at Blodeuwedd’s face.  Her new vision let her clearly see the girl’s pain.   _You knew,_ she said.  _When you told me I might want more berries.  You knew this had happened to her._

The shadow didn’t deny it.  _I felt blood,_ it said.  _The men who came after you carried it with them.  In that place, blood calls out to me.  I could see how they shed it._

Nimue took one of the berries out of her handkerchief.  It was small and white.  She was able to see its color, she realized, even in the darkness. 

“Here,” she said, pressing it against Blodeuwedd’s lips.  “Eat this.  It—it will help.”

Blodeuwedd opened her mouth and swallowed.  Nimue watched as the lines of pain faded away.  “Oh,” Blodeuwedd whispered.  “Oh, that's better.”  She closed her hand around Nimue’s.  “What did you see?” she asked. “Up on the hill.  What’s happening?”

“I—I—”

 _Let me,_ the shadow said.  _Let me speak through your mouth.  I will comfort her._

Nimue nodded.  She licked her lips and let the shadow’s lies tumble out.  “They’re gone” she said.  "I could see the soldiers being routed.  There weren’t as many as we thought.  They set a few fires, but our people were putting them out.  It gave me enough light to see.  There were dead riders lying on the ground, but none of our people.  Women were bandaging our wounded.”

“Mama?”

“She wore the white dress Papa gave her.  I could see it in the moonlight.  Papa stood by her.  They’ll be with us soon.  Once it’s light enough to see, we can go look for them.”

“Want . . . want Mama.” Blodeuwedd’s voice was getting weaker.

“Soon,” the shadow whispered.  “You’ll be with her soon.  Rest now.  Sleep will make the day come faster.”

Nimue held Blodeuwedd as she passed into sleep and then beyond sleep.

 _We should be moving,_ the shadow said.

_No._

_Nimue, I can’t fight for you.  I haven’t the power.  If anyone finds you here, it could be bad._

_You hid me from the soldiers on the hill.  They looked right at me and couldn’t see me._

The shadow paused.  _The man who led them.  You heard his name?_

Nimue thought back to what had been said on the hill.  _Vortigan?_

_I know that name.  He is a wizard.  He understands darkness.  It would not be good for either of us to be found by him right now._

_I can’t just_ leave _her here!_

There was another pause.  Nimue could feel the shadow thinking.  _Drop the rest of the berries on the gound,_ it said.  _I can do that much.  They will hide this place, shelter it.  Vortigan is looking for the living, not the dead.  She will rest peacefully here._

Nimue squeezed Blodeuwedd’s cold hand.  _I can’t._

_If you stay here, if you are found, Vortigan will kill you.  If that happens, he wins.  Escape him, and you may still have a chance at justice._

_Justice?_ Nimue thought of Blodeuwedd, of her father and Blodeuwedd’s mother.  She thought of all the other dead she was leaving behind.  _I don’t want justice._ She smoothed Blodeuwedd’s hair and folded the little girl’s hands together in her lap, trying to cover her wounds.  She hesitated, still not wanting to leave her like this.  She looked at the wreath of pink and white flowers woven through Blodeuwedd’s hair.  The flowers were still fresh and blooming.  Nimue knew how to nurture a cutting into new life.  If she took these, if she reached another village in time, she might be able to replant them, to make them grow.

 _I don’t want justice,_ she told the shadow again.  _I want revenge._

Inside her, the shadow seemed to laugh.  _I can live with that._

Nimue got up, dropping the remaining berries outside the hollow.  She walked into the darkness, never looking back.

X

The next morning, the horses of the soldiers who had been sent to the hill came racing back to camp, wild-eyed and riderless.  When Vortigan and his men went searching for them, they found them dead in the circle.  They had been dead for hours, by the look of them.

“How did they die?” One of his men asked.  “There’s not a mark on them.”

Vortigan pointed to the bushes that grew all over the hill.  They were a strange plant, not one any of the men had ever seen before, so dark as to be almost black.  Their oddly lobed leaves curved like small, taloned hands about to close on their prey.  They were covered with death-white berries.  “I know this herb,” Vortigan said.  “It’s not without its uses, but even a bit is deadly poison.  Leave their bodies.  Better not even to touch men Epimetheus’ flower has killed.  And best to be away.  This is an ill-omened place.”

The soldiers looked at their dead companions, unwilling just to abandon them.  Then, they looked at the black altar and the thirteen stones and nodded, riding away.  Vortigan came last, making sure all his men were safely away.

Before following them, he glanced at the stone.

 _Was the sacrifice acceptable?_ he asked.  _All the village was for you, but only two died within your circle._

 _There was a third,_ the shadows answered.  _She offered herself to me.  When the time comes, you yourself will shed her blood for me._

_Should I hunt her down?_

_No need.  She will come of her own free will._

Vortigan bowed.  _As you wish._ He turned away and followed his men.

In the heart of the circle, the darkness seemed to smile, waiting for their return.

**Author's Note:**

> Epimetheus, whose name meant hindsight, was the brother of Prometheus, whose name meant foresight. He was the brother who stole fire but he didn't take it from the gods.


End file.
